Otter Creek This Was No Accident, This Was a Therapeutic Chain of Events

She settled beside him, her touch on the wrong side of rough—
 
“Whatever.” He huffed.
 
He was too damn tired to fight. He was cold. He was exhausted. And she wasn’t much, but she was warm, and her touch dried him with every pass.
 
He let her settle against his side, and with only the faintest of growls, rested his head on his forelegs, ears plastered back against his head and his tail curled close as she groomed him.